Catching the Cues
by retrinazambrano
Summary: A collection of Eva and Chris one shots set against the backdrop of Miami Medical's trauma wing. Rated M in case future chapters get a little racy..!
1. I'm Listening

_A rarity: a Miami Medical fic and an even bigger rarity: one from me! Thanks to Lindsay and Shay for the beta and Shay, this one's for you! Hope you enjoy this little foray into the life and times of Miami's best trauma duo..._

* * *

Days in MT1 are long, gruelling and well… different. One head trauma is never the same as another, one tracheotomy has different risks and each of the attending staff are permanently on their toes. They're all sure that Trauma is nothing like any other of the specialties they could have chosen. Which means, when they can be sure they won't just face plant their respective drinks out of sheer fatigue, they all take the chance to while their evenings away at their regular haunt.

It's Chris's idea this time around, the first round on him and it's enough to tempt Eva, who shouts a resolute _yes!_ to his offer with a fist in the air, but with both Tuck and Proctor on late shifts and Serena on a date with Hunky Reunion Guy, it leaves the two surgeons in each other's company (no doubt stirring up rumours) and after the horrible day she's had, with sudden patient death and all manner of complications stemming from that, she _needs_ that drink.

"You offered to buy the first round," Eva starts, causing Chris to arch a brow as they slide into their preferred seats at the bar. "With the others indisposed, does that mean I get a couple more drinks on you..?" she tries with a sly grin, one he matches.

"Normally I'd say one's the only offer I'm willing to put forward, but as it's you, Zambrano…" he trails off, holding up his drink in a toast, one she matches, clinking their glasses together before both take a sip of the respective crisp, cool beverages. "To the day being done."

"Mmm, to the day being done" she hums, placing the glass back on the bar before turning her attentions fully to him. "I needed that."

Chris nods in agreement, mirroring her actions. "So, shitty day, huh?"

"You could say that," she sighs, pushing the more stubborn tendrils of her dark hair back behind her ears. "I know that it happens, days like these, but y'know, it doesn't make them any easier when they do come around."

"True. No-one and nothing prepares you for the feeling of utter helplessness you get when you're watching your patient slip away." It's something she can relate to and she takes another swig of her beer to counteract the dread coursing through her at the mere thought of earlier that day. "But, the day is over, right? Tomorrow's a new one and the night is young, as they say…"

That causes the brunette to smile. "I didn't know you were poetic," she laughs, making a good-natured jab at him as he nudges her with his elbow.

"You've gotta admit, that rhyme was a little… tenuous."

"I'll drink to that," she agrees, holding her glass back in the air and taking another generous sip.

They sit in companionable silence for several moments before Chris clears his throat. "So, I heard from Tuck that a certain doctor I work with is… bilingual," Chris starts with a wiggle of his brows.

"Bilingual? Chris, you know I speak Spanish. I tell you your terrible jokes are _muy huevos_ often enough," Eva replies, a bemused look on her face.

"Oh yes, Spanish, Dr. Zambrano, but sign language?" Eva breathes out an _ohhh_ as the blonde reaffirms with a nod. "Said you helped out a patient you thought was having tremors."

"He's damn right," she says, grinning, still pleased with herself at how that particular case turned out. "Been awhile since I'd used it, so I was probably a little rusty."

"Seemed to work well enough, Miss Modest," and she scoffs, but agrees. "So, how did you learn that?"

"Classes, of course…" Chris rolls his eyes - she knows that's not what he meant and she nudges him right back. "I took a class in college so I could communicate with my second cousin. I wanted to be able to communicate with her in a way she was comfortable with, not just have her rely on lip reading." Another sip of her beer. "Can you believe she used to make fun of me for the way I'd move my hands?" The surgeon laughs at the memory. "She said I wasn't being clear enough, but she soon taught me, the little firecracker. I swear, one mis-signed word and she's never let me forget it!"

He chuckles at that. "You did all that for your cousin?" Chris asks, no judgement to his tone.

"Yeah. We were close, right, before she lost her hearing and the bond we had was just strengthened by me being able to talk to her through signing." She smiles, pulling her phone from her pocket, placing it in front of Chris. "See, this is me and this is Maria." Chris observes the picture, Eva's background, her arms around her teenage cousin, both with massive grins on their faces.

"Great picture, can see the resemblance," Chris says as Eva slips the device back into her pocket and she nods.

"Thanks. So yeah, that's the story of how Dr Eva Zambrano learned how to sign." She bites her lip, bobbing her head, taking another sip and finishing off the remnants of her beer.

Chris orders them both another round, keeping good on his promise. "So, how do you say 'Chris' in sign?"

Eva shows him, her motions confident, following up with another set of signs. "That's how you say Chris and Eva."

"Chris and Eva. I like the sound of that," and his audacity causes Eva to laugh out loud, signing a little more. "What did you say then?"

"That you're insufferable."

Then it's Chris's turn to laugh. "I swear, you fascinate me the more I talk to you."

He's flirting a little more boldly and she's had a drink. _Most rumours have a kernel of truth_ , right, so what harm will it do if she flirts a little back? "That's just as well, Dr Deleo. Who wants all their secrets to be discovered in one night?"

He leans in then, interested. Very interested.

"Well, what else are you willing to share?"


	2. Stay Lucky

**Just a short piece based on Nerina Pallot's _Stay Lucky_. Thank you to Shay  & Lindsay for the beta, but also thank you to Ella who read the original version of this (the Boomtown version, should anyone want to read it!) and left me lots of lovely comments and D, who convinced me to start another MM OS!**

 **I don't own Eva and Chris or Miami Medical. What!? Might have to start a petition or something...**

* * *

She'd been dashing around a heaving trauma ward when she saw his face on the stretcher beneath her. Chris Deleo, her favourite charismatic high-flying trauma buddy, victim to his own altruism. A risky plan from all angles, Chris had run into a crumbling building when in the field with the paramedics against all better advice, arguing that the positive would be that he could save the lives of three people. The negatives, in a word, fatal.

And the negatives won out.

They'd lost all three patients in the impact and Eva just hopes their deaths were quick, as she's informed, walking quickly alongside Chris's gurney, taking in the superficial cuts and bruises to his face. He just looks like he's sleeping like this and it would be peaceful, sweet, if there wasn't a brace around his neck. This isn't something she'd wish on her worst enemy, seeing her friend comatose, barely making it to the entrance following the collapse, getting hit by falling shrapnel at the very last moment, walking the tightrope between life and death. A slow death if all goes wrong, his very soul slipping away before her eyes and, for a medic, trained in saving lives, she hates the feeling of acute helplessness, a feeling she hoped she'd never have to feel again at the hands of a cherished one.

* * *

Three days had passed since and he's still in a bad way. He'd been whisked into the OR to relieve the pressure on his brain and although Eva had pleaded with Proctor to let her assist him in the procedure, he simply told her that with all that emotion coursing through her veins, she would be a liability, something she found offensive. Now, though, looking back, she realises it was absolutely the right decision. She could never have lived with herself if it was her mistake that cost him his life.

It's not his fault and it is all his fault all at once. Her emotions are entirely her own, but his insistence at going through with his damn plan? That _is_ his fault and she hates him for it, hates the paramedics, hates buildings… hell, she hates Miami right now.

When her rational side wins out - less frequently than usual at the moment, with a half-dead colleague and friend - she realises that that is his job. Trauma pays the bills. His carefully constructed plan was necessary and at least he attempted to save three lives.

Except those three victims are six feet under and Chris is three away off joining them.

Eva can't think like that though; standing, stretching from the uncomfortable plastic seat, pushing her hair back from her face in frustration.

 _Why won't you fight it, Chris? Fight back! Wake up!_

She's in tears by the end of her sentence, turning away and taking a deep breath, her fingers grasping at the hair at her temple.

 _I'm sorry!_ She gasps as she rushes back to his side, grasping his hand. _I'm sorry for shouting_ , she relays breathlessly. _I'll even go on that damn date with you if you wake up. Please wake up. Please._

* * *

The incessant beeping is what wakens Eva from her uncomfortable slumber, her head at an unnatural angle upon Chris's mattress and as she lifts her head, blinks, gets her bearings, she realises that something is _seriously_ wrong. She jumps up, reading the stats on the screen with the ease only her training can provide, hitting the _call_ button on the wall.

He's slipping away. He's dying.

* * *

Eva tries her utmost to prevent herself from becoming hysterical - it's not like her at all - but she can't help but become a victim to the ghosts in her mind that shout and gloat at her absolute inability to help. Proctor won't allow her in the room, Tuck suggesting she go to the staff room and all she can hear is the echo echo echo of the heart monitor in her head. It's deafening. She slumps into a chair and puts her hands over her ears. How is she going to deal with all of this? How is she going to tell his brother - only just recovering from his own illness - that he's done all this fighting only to lose his closest relative? How? It's the only and single word she can think of, asides _why?_ Eva feels her ire spike again, anger flooding her veins at her friend's impulsive behaviour and she wants to scream the hospital down, but no sound comes out, nothing at all, except a heartbreaking sob.

* * *

Eva's trance only breaks when Proctor comes in and, by his ashen expression, she knows. She knows he's gone but, oddly enough, she doesn't feel it. _Just a coping mechanism kicking in, denial is the first of the five stages of grief after all…_

 _What? What did you say?_ Eva blinks and stares at her boss, not quite believing what he's saying.

 _Eva, Chris is still with us._

* * *

She's sure the hour she has to wait before she can see Chris again is the longest, most excruciating wait she's had to endure in recent years, one that feels like days upon days of torture, but it's all worth it when she sees her pal, still unconscious but _breathing_ ; she is nothing but thankful for everything. Every little thing, all the moments they shared their innermost feelings over drinks, the little flirtatious looks and comments, every time he called her Peaches, the heated arguments over a patient that they're susceptible to at times, she's happy for it all. Wants to tell him just how much she treasures him.

And she does just that.

 _You had me for a minute there_ , she laughs uneasily, fitting her hand into his and squeezing it. _I thought you were letting go._ A tear, two then three escape, before the dam breaks and she's openly sobbing. She lifts his hand to her lips and kisses it gently.

* * *

Chris comes round the following day and even though Proctor quite rightly warns that he's not out of the woods yet and that his rehabilitation will be lengthy, Eva vows to him that she'll be right alongside him, that, despite his necessary recklessness and what she jokingly coins _the need to be the hero_ , she's glad she met him, that luck threw them together into the madhouse that is their job. Their luck hasn't quite run out yet.


End file.
